Two Worlds Apart
by serenity-topaz
Summary: An unprecedented event in Gensokyo forced its residents to the outside world. How will they get back home with the help of their new friends? Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Touhou. They belong to Himaruya Hidekaz and ZUN/Team Shanghai Alice respectively. (Rated T for adult themes)
1. Afternoon Encounters

Hello! This is a crossover Fanfiction of Hetalia: Axis Powers and Touhou Projects. I've previously read some of the other crossover fanfictions here, but all of them seemed to have been on some kind of indefinite hiatus. So I hope this one can continue.

Though, I had to warn you - I'm in my last year of high school now. Don't expect updates every single week - I'm not that kind of person. This chapter alone took about a month to complete and the later chapter will require me to do research into world history and culture. Hopefully when I finish my exams (early November) I will be able to write and update more often.

Also, any comments that goes "OMG PLZ PUT IN -insert character name here- IN YOUR FANFIC!" or "WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO UPDATE AGAIN?"and I will seriously consider pulling the plug on this.

Without further ado, enjoy! ^_^

EDIT (13/5/12): Damn it, I really need to improve on my sentence structure skills.

* * *

1. Afternoon Encounters

Honda Kiku was hurrying home, a black folder in his right arm and bags of grocery in his left. Being a country is hard – you would have to deal with various issues with your bosses such as global warming and economic trading, as well as maintaining a diplomatic outlook in front of other national leaders and countries. At the same time, you have to maintain the cover as a normal civilian - your true identity have to remain a secret to all except for a trusted few.

It's a big job, but somebody has to do it.

"I'm definitely getting too old for this…" he sighed as he gently brushed any loose hair to the side. Normally he would have a chauffeur taking him to and from work, but with the driver calling in sick today and a lack of taxi in sight, the subway seemed to be the quickest option out. Already the items were starting to weigh him down. He blamed it on the tsunami/nuclear disaster last year which had left him bedridden for almost six months, and while his health has been improving little by little, manual work still proved a challenge. Meanwhile, the traffic light above him blinked a couple of times before turning green, allowing him and dozens of pedestrians to walk across the road. Everyone was finishing their nine-to-five jobs here in central Tokyo, their lives like parallel lines: no matter how close they're against each other, they will never cross.

He wasn't looking forward to the sardine can treatment on the Tokyo subway. When his country is so advanced in technology, his boss insisted that he live in the city instead of meeting via video conferences, arguing that he would be better off in the city where all kinds of services can be easily accessed. Personally, he preferred small towns and villages more, with their fresh air, green fields and small creeks. But, alas, that was not the case.

_Bump._

A student had just barged past him, the pencils and notebooks in his bag emanating dull clunks as Kiku brushed a scrap of paper off his clothes.

_How inconsiderate of him! Didn't his parents teach him the most basic manners?_

As he slowly raised his head, a burst of colour caught his eyes. Kiku was so used to seeing office workers in their suits and the bland tiles on the floor that he didn't take much notice of them, but today, there were finally something worth looking out for in this dull landscape. The source wasn't the luminescence from a vending machine or the latest billboard – rather, they were from two young girls dressed in bright costumes. One girl had long dark brown hair, kept in place with red ribbons. Her dress was in a matching colour to her hair accessories, along with detached white sleeves that exposed her shoulders.

_Well, I suppose it's nice to see a shrine maiden in the city every now and then. Good to see youths today are keeping up with the traditions._ Kiku watched the first girl waved a gohei at her partner. The latter had a pink mob hat sitting above her flowing blonde hair. Her frilly pink dress had a piece of royal purple fabric attached down the front with appliqués of symbols, their peculiarity intriguing him.

_It would be interesting to learn the meanings behind them._ Kiku thought. _They must be from another culture._

"Yukari, I can't believe your attitude!" the red-and-white miko shouted, loud enough for the Japanese man to hear. Several workers paused to look at what seem to be two schoolgirls' drama practise before moving on, not wanting to miss their train. Kiku, however, remained curious, especially at the "Yukari" girl who was carrying an open parasol in the underground tunnels.

"Seriously, we didn't come out from Gensokyo just so you could sleep all day in the hotel!" she continued, "We have a job to do!"

_Gensokyo… now why does that name sound familiar?_ Kiku tried to remember but it escaped his head. Rubbing his head he walked on, passing under a neon sign directing the commuters to the eastern suburbs line. He couldn't wait to get back to his apartment near Koiwa Station, where he could sink back to his own temporary paradise in the city.

* * *

Wang Yao was in the rush hour traffic, his hand tapping impatiently on the steering wheel as other motorists sound their horns in frustration. Leaning back into his seat he turned up the radio, where the station was playing one of his favourite songs – Moscow Nights.

"Promise me my love, as the dawn appears, and the darkness turns into light… That you'll cherish dear, through the passing years, this most beautiful Moscow night…"

He knew the lyrics in both Chinese and Russian, as he remembered having to sing it in front of expats and visitors during diplomatic meetings. Unfortunately it also meant singing in front of Ivan Braginski, who seemed to have mistaken Yao's intentions and thought he was singing to him as a lover.

"那只笨狗熊。。。" Yao muttered under his breath. "Seriously, when is he going to give up?" While the younger generations have become more tolerant towards the idea of a public display of affection, he still struggles with it, especially when Ivan starts with his bone crushing bear hugs. Still, he had to admit his northern neighbour has been a good friend through the past century. Even though they had the Sino-Soviet split (which was quite a fiasco), the support they have towards each other outweighs the negatives by a far stretch.

"We now interrupt our regular programming for some breaking news…"

_诶？又发生什么事了？_

"There are reports of a serious incident near a repair shop in Guangxia Way …" the Chinese man froze and sat up straight in his leather seat, for that place was a street away from his apartment block. "Three men had been taken into hospital with injuries. Witnesses say a young woman with red hair and green qipao has attacked the three armed robbers before disappearing in an astounding aurora-like light, described as 'like a superhero'…"

_Sigh… so much for a serious incident! Is it just me, or has the media run out of materials to publish nowadays?_ Yao shook his head and switched off the radio is dismay. _I mean, the girl could've easily been a skilled magician like Liu Qian! She could've staged the whole thing to get publicity! Oh well, you can't blame those poor journalists for trying to meet their deadlines…_

To be truthful, Yao was glad that nothing major had happened. The last time he remembered getting breaking news on the radio, he had ended up in the World Hospital with a bad stomach ache and horrible nightmares that lasted for almost a month.

* * *

There was nothing Francis Bonnefoy loved more than a cheese omelette with coffee in the sunny afternoon down at the Seine. Like many people, he was seated facing towards the street where he could enjoy the cuisine and watch _nicely dressed_ women strolling past him. Elegant clothes is a high scoring factor in his book, as well as well-presented legs and cleavage, of course.

_It's such a nice day to be out and about._ The Frenchman thought. In the past few days, the chilly wind – remnants of the winter season – had kept most at home. That is, until today, when the superiors up in heaven decided to give the human race a break and removed the grey veil in the sky, revealing a yellow ball of warmth. Parisians had come out from the safety of their apartments, soaking up the atmosphere – from the appetising smell of bread to pungent fragrance of the latest Dior perfume, from the noise of cars to a hubbub of civilians and tourists crowding near the traffic lights, from the mellow light of the sunshine to the glitter of a girl's sequined top…

A few bars of "La Marseillaise" snapped him back to reality. He glanced at his phone, which was acting as a paper weight for today's edition of "Le Parisien". _Francois Hollande. _With a sigh, he swiped at the screen casually.

"Bon après-midi, Président. Comment allez-vous…?"

He paused for a while after that, allowing the newly elected president to rattle on about the economy and foreign policy. Francis could almost feel the headache coming along as he listened to Hollande giving him instructions on the tasks he had set for him. _Urgh, what a great way to spoil an afternoon!_ He thought. It had been almost sixteen years since he last had a boss coming from the left-wing Socialist party, and it is going to take some time for him to get use to this man whose ideologies is nothing like the ones from his old boss, Sarkozy.

"…oui… d'accord. Je serai à votre bureau en quinze minutes."

Shoving the last forkful of salad into his mouth, Francis gathered all his possessions and slid twenty euros underneath the drinks menu. He can't really complain about his work, as he knew there would be many others who are in the same position as him. Still, with the crisis of Eurozone and whatnot, just about all his neighbours are on alert about whoever would collapse under the pressure first…

"Sir!"

Responding to the tapping on his shoulder, Francis whirled around, meeting the curious looks of two beautiful young ladies. One of them had opted for a pink outfit, with red ribbons decorating her hat, neckerchief and her waist. Despite having her matching beret sitting atop her short blue hair for sun protection, she carried a parasol in her left hand, and in her right sat a black shiny object.

"Oh! That's my phone!" with a flourish of his hands he accepted it, "Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle! I must've dropped it while I was gathering my files!"

"You're welcome, sir…" but before Remilia Scarlet could finish her sentence, Francis had already run off to the nearest station.

_Well, someone is busy._ She thought.

"Sis?"

Flandre's enquiring eyes were on her. Unlike her sister, little Flandre's outfit was more innocent and playful than elegant. A white mob hat covered her short golden curls, accompanied by a bright red dress with yellow neckerchief and white frills. If her dress had been a duller colour like grey or brown, she could've easily be mistaken as a primary schoolgirl.

"Sis—"

"What is it?"

"My back is getting itchy!" Flandre said in a whiney voice, "How long do we have to hide our wings for, sis?"

Remilia sighed. She didn't like this idea either – but they had to lie low. The last thing she wants is for a whole street of civilians to point and comment at their wings, which could trigger Flandre's unstable power and, ultimately, lead to unimaginable consequences.

"Not for long. Maybe if we find a safe place to stay we'll relieve them."

"Okay… also, sis, why did you help that man? I don't like his att-ta-tude, especially the way he was looking at the girls… it's creepy."

"I know, Flandre," Remilia shuddered, "If I could, I wouldn't be asking for that frivolous little… _playboy's_ help! But he's the only one here who emits a kind of power both of us can detect... since he's the only supernatural being around now, we can't let this opportunity go by."

"So what should we do?"

A metro train rushed by under the drain cover, its engine noise echoing into the abyss of the tunnel.

"… we follow him, what else can we do?"

* * *

Author's Notes:

1. Koiwa is an actual train station in the city of Tokyo.

2. Moscow Nights (otherwise known as Midnight in Moscow) is a popular song written in the 50s. It won the international song contest and the first prize at the World Festival of Youth and Students. It is well-known in China and deemed as a classic song.

3. 那只笨狗熊。。。 - "That idiotic bear..." - this is a literal translation of a phrase found in most of the Hetalia fanfictions in Chinese that involved Rochu. I think it's supposed to be somewhat an endearing term and as a reference to his tall figure.

4. _诶？又发生什么事了？_ - "Eh? What's going on now?"

5. Liu Qian - famous magician from Taiwan. Quite a charming guy.

6. Cafes in Paris generally have seats faced towards the street.

7. "La Marseillaise" - France's national anthem.

8. "Le Parisien" - there are several newspaper names I found. This seemed to be a popular one for general everyday news.

9. "Bon après-midi, Président. Comment allez-vous…?" - "Good afternoon, President. How are you?"

10. "…oui… d'accord. Je serai à votre bureau en quinze minutes." - "...yes, okay. I'll be at your desk in fifteen minutes." (Note: I don't know much French. This sentence was off Google Translate.)

11. "Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle!" - "Thank you so much, lady!"

12. The metro train thing is off a memory I had while I was in Paris.

So... tell me what you think! Suggestions for the story is welcome, but no begging for addition of characters or updates.


	2. Melodies of a Not-so-Distant Past

Oh my goodness, two reviews. Seriously though, I thought I wouldn't get one until four chapters in... seeing as not many people read crossovers and stuff. So thank you for my two reviewers, and those who took the time to read my fanfic. (:

Oh, also, I forgot to mention this but I am using human names of the countries. I'm also putting oriental names (that is Japanese and Chinese names etc.) in the format of last name/first name.

Again, I do not own both the fandoms.

Now, onward!

EDIT (22/6/2012): Due to a helpful suggestion from a reviewer, I changed the ending to a more plausible one. Hopefully it sounds better than the previous one. I'd had to admit myself - I was guilty of rushing on that last part there...

* * *

2. Melodies of a Not-so-Distant Past

Roderich Edelstein strolled through the streets of Vienna. The sun was beginning to set and an evening breeze had already settled in. Street lights flickered as the circuitry around the city switched to night mode, bathing the pavement in mellow light. Adjusting his white business tie, he took a glance of himself in the shop window, smoothing the creases which had appeared on his suit. In about two hours he would be walking up the stage of the Konzerthaus with the Vienna Symphony, performing some of Mozart's finest compositions in front of a respected audience and television cameras from ORF 2. He must be well-presented in front of them.

_Oops, missed a spot._ The Austrian took out a soft cloth and discreetly polished his spectacles. _There is nothing worse than performing with your vision hindered. God knows what would happen if I hit a wrong note in front of so many people! Mozart would certainly not approve of this from his grave… wherever it happens to be._

Checking his watch – which had a very worn out leather strap – he decided it was time for dinner. The tragedy of performing on an empty stomach is something unthinkable. Sure, there is a café at the concert hall, but the price of food there is about twice as expensive as normal cafés, and the quality was not good enough for his tastebuds. Taking a turn at the next street he stopped, the smell of cooked food wafting toward his nostrils.

In his mind, a menu had already been set up as he sat down at his favourite restaurant. _Maybe a small salad for entrée, then Wiener schnitzel for main course with a slice of Sachertorte for dessert? But that meal seems too heavy and rich for pre-performance… maybe I should swap the main for some Kasnocken and dessert for a Mokka. It'll be easier on my stomach._

"Darf ich Ihre Bestellung aufnehmen?" a waiter stood next to him, his pen tapping on the clipboard impatiently. Dismissing the young man's arrogance as inexperience, he repeated the order to the waiter who was out of sight in a matter of seconds.

"And now we wait."

As Roderich took out his phone to check the news, a couple of raised voices drew his attention. The source came from table six, where three young women in unusual matching garments were arguing with a man. A scowl spread across the man's face as he cross his arms, demanding the girls to get out.

"Please, sir," said the first girl who had a violin slung over her shoulder, "I know we cannot pay for the meal, but at least allow us to play here and earn our dinner."

"No! I've had enough of you amateur musicians who scare my customers away with terrible music," the man said forcefully.

"But… "

The man examined the blonde in front of him, who was wearing a nice black dress with red buttons for decoration. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Hmm… unless you come to the bathroom and offer me a… _better service_," a lewd smile crept up to his face as he whispered it into her ear, "I could let you have entrée for free. Otherwise," he raised his voice again, "You amateurs can get out of my sight."

Upon hearing the suggestive comment, the first girl stepped back in disgust. The second girl, who had a trumpet in her left hand, shoved the violinist out of the way.

"Merlin!"

"Now you listen here, buddy!" Merlin stepped forward and slapped the man with her white hat, "We're not amateurs! Say that again and I'll blow your head off with my danmaku—"

"Merlin, that's enough!"

"But Lunasa…! I can't just let this _son of a b*tch_ walk over you like that!"

"You know, Lunasa's right," spoke the third member of the trio – a brunette with an outfit that made her look like one of Santa's little helpers. Throwing the polishing cloth back on her small keyboard, she got up and stared intently at the man, "We shouldn't waste time with lowly humans like him. We can survive without food anyway."

"Lyrica, this is the third time we've been rejected!" Merlin complained, "And Lunasa and I really want to eat…"

"Well, you're the ones who want food. I just want to get back to Gensokyo."

"Ahem, excuse me," Roderich stood up, much to the surprise of other customers, "The gentleman with the white hat, I haven't seen you around here before. Are you the new owner of the restaurant?"

Taking a step back, the man was surprised at the sudden confrontation, "I co-own it with my partner," he said proudly, "I'm also the head chef here."

"Then I suggest you should let the three girls play before jumping to quick conclusions," the aristocrat said diplomatically, "I'm a professional musician and I'll be the judge of their performance. As a head chef, may I remind you that your duty is bound in the kitchen and not here in the dining room?"

The girl named Lyrica narrowed her eyes while Lunasa raised her eyebrows in surprise. A dull 'clunk' saw Merlin dropping her trumpet comically. Meanwhile, the head chef crossed his arms and step forward, towering over the Austrian.

"Well excuse me, sir," the chef put on his mocking voice at Roderich, "This is my restaurant, not yours—"

"And it won't be yours any longer, when the food review of my dinner comes out in tomorrow morning's paper, Herr Koch," continued Roderich smoothly. To him, this situation of conflict was nothing compared to what he had to deal with at world meetings, "I must warn you that I'm very picky when it comes to taste, and if I find the _Kaznocken_ to be too dry I will not hesitate putting in a few scathing words about it. Understood?"

Several customers shouted "hear, hear" in the background as Roderich watched the chef's face turned beetroot with satisfaction. Of course, if he continued fighting and the musician was telling the truth, he could very well come under the wrath of the most popular food magazines or damning reviews in tourism websites… and _then_ he would have a lot to answer for to his partner. Swallowing his pride, the head chef stomped back to his workplace cursing, his anger causing one of the waiters to drop a bunch of silver forks in his hand.

"Wow."

"Thank you," said Lunasa quietly.

"Don't thank me just yet," said Roderich lightly, "Everybody here wants a good performance, I suggest you go and tune your violin strings now."

"Don't worry, sir!" Merlin interrupted enthusiastically, "We're the best musicians in Gensokyo! We won't disappoint you! We've—"

"Merlin! Do us a favour and come here," Lyrica ordered. The Austrian frowned at the percussionist's hostility, before shaking his head. _No, I can't judge them on their attitude. He thought. Bach and I didn't see eye to eye, yet he was a brilliant musician himself. I can't be biased when it comes to judging performances. _As the three girls gathered in the corner to plan their performances, Roderich picked up his glass of water and took a sip tentatively, being careful not to spill any on his suit.

* * *

"He is surprisingly nice for a male," Lunasa commented.

Lyrica shook her head, "There's something suspicious about him," she said, "Ever since we stepped into this place I kept on getting this tingling feeling on my skin. Something is not normal about him."

"Maybe it's just the cold winds."

"Oh, come on, Lyrica," Merlin rolled her eyes, "He's a professional musician like us. At least we have common language. Anyway, he's more trustworthy than that cook," the trumpet player shuddered in disgust, "Just you wait until my danmaku power fully recovers from this… grr."

"I'm a bit worried now, to be honest," said Lunasa, "What if we fail?"

"Fail? FAIL?" Merlin scoffed, "Remember, Lunasa, we're the best—"

"—musicians in Gensokyo. Yes, we've heard that already," Lyrica interrupted, "But since when is the last time we had an audience of humans? I don't know if this group is as easy to please as those from the human village. They look like they want the very best from us."

"Yeah, and we haven't recovered fully from travelling into this outside world…"

"You two are so pessimistic," sighed the trumpet player, "I really don't know what to do with you two. Come on, the crowd is waiting."

As the last words dropped from Merlin's mouth, the Prismriver sisters soon realised the anticipating silence which had swept through the small restaurant. Even the discordant sound of crockery from the kitchen was reduced to a small hum behind the swinging doors. Lunasa fiddled with her violin, the string underneath her fingers shook with a nervous twang.

"Lunasa!"

"Right…"

Picking up her bow, the girl in the black dress slowly dragged out an A note. Fragments of memories suddenly entered her mind as she remembered one particular rainy day in Gensokyo. An outing to the human village had taken a turn for the worse when the sky opened up, so heavy the rain it was impossible for her to navigate back home. With her dress soaking wet and her hat lopsided she took shelter at Morichika Rinnosuke's shop, spending hours underneath the drumming roof chatting with the man and browsing through his goods. She remembered the musty smell in that particular dusty corner as her hands meandered through a stack of items piled up against a chair.

Eventually her fingers came across something with smooth curves on the surface – a large black disc with a hole in the middle. Seeing the confused look on her face, the spectacled shopkeeper patiently explained to Lunasa uses of vinyl records and record players, before offering her a mug of green tea. Curious about the strange human invention, she gently positioned the record and needle together.

And there it was, the first note, the low A note on the violin. The A note then went up a scale, back down to D, and A again… she sat quietly, listening to the melancholic sound magically travelling out from the needle of the record player. Whoever the human composer was, he or she had certainly put their heart and soul into this. Sad song she had hear plenty of, but this particular one had stuck out in her mind. _What was this song about?_ She had always wondered. To her it was a mix of grief and tragedy, of emptiness and despair… and as the music quickened and the scales heightened, she could feel a hint of hope and see the light at the end of the tunnel. She wants to fly towards it and grab hold of whatever it was, no matter what stood in her way. _Notes rise and fall like the wave upon a sea as unseen forces tried to stop her, but the light was getting closer and closer…_

"Lunasa… Lunasa!" a voice brought her back from her daydreams, "The rain has stopped."

Opening her eyes, the violinist glanced at the label stuck around the centre hole. "Schindler's List Soundtrack…" she uttered. _What a funny name for a song_.

"Um… Lunasa? Are you alright?"

"Rinnosuke… may I please pay for this disc and record player?"

* * *

When Lunasa first suggested they practise the song, Lyrica and Merlin agreed. They, too, was mesmerised by the beautiful melody.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long before their rehearsals turned into loud arguments. Reason? Merlin was used to playing high, joyful notes on her trumpet, and to suddenly switch to something so slow and emotional was way out of her comfort zone. Lyrica went slightly better with her keyboard, but Lunasa quickly criticised her tune as "lifeless and boring". In the end, it took them nearly six months practise before they dared to play the song together in public, and they had decided to avoid using this song as much as possible because of their risk in stuffing up the tune.

So when Lyrica and Merlin both heard the familial notes, they had a moment of panic. _What was Lunasa thinking? Had she gone mad?_ But there was no time to argue as both quickly position their fingers on the right notes. A loose hair hung before Merlin's eyes and she quickly blew it off, just in time for her to see Lunasa's pinkie signalling for her to join in. Taking a deep breath she wrapped her lips around the mouth piece and blew it out, her chest rose up and down with the sound. The high pitch of violin and sustained reverberations fitted together like two pieces of jigsaw puzzle, its power blocking out any attempts of interference from outside and demanded attention from the audiences. Somewhere in amidst the string and wind instruments, subtle keyboard notes danced in the background as Lyrica bend over in her seat, her eyes focused upon her instrument.

Many thoughts raced through Roderich's mind as he sat fixated in his seat. The melody took him back to the concentration camps with Ludwig and Gilbert, and he could see dirty, tattered clothes of the labourers who worked hard to stay alive as chimneys behind them belched out smoke, the ash falling around them like snow… _how many families had been destroyed by the systematic slaughter of people? How many hopes and dreams had been dashed? How many children…_ there was no definite answer, as he felt something rolling down his cheek.

Moments later his memory switched to the unforgettable, charismatic businessman at an officers' party who had waltz over towards him and Elizaveta, offering a bottle of fine wine and kissing his partner's hand.

"Great performance, Herr Edelstein... and you look beautiful in that dress, Fräulein Hedervary!" the buisnessman had said, "Here, this is a token of thanks from me, it's a bottle of wine specially imported from Burgundy..."

_I knew he was a high class citizen like me, had wonderful taste in his food, music, accessories…and that charming smile… it was hard to forget._ He thought. _But that was all I knew back then._

_Whoever saves one life saves the world entire_. It wasn't until many years later Roderich learnt of Oskar Schindler and his actions during the war. Indeed, it was a befitting tribute for the Austrian-born businessman. As a Nazi associate he could've chosen to continue making more money and lived luxuriously, but instead, he had chosen to risk his life and sacrifice so much of his fortunes to save so many people.

Around 1200 people with thousands more descendants, in fact.

As the violinist reached the final high note he found himself holding his breath, before releasing it along the peaceful hum of the trumpet. When Lyrica lifted her finger from the keyboard, silence greeted the sisters for the second time. Everyone sat in their seats, their eyes fixed upon the trio of buskers as the crockery from the kitchen continued with their muffled clinking.

A slow and rhythmic clap sliced through thin air as the waiter from before applauded. A few tables away, one woman in a purple cocktail dress stood up, clapping enthusiastically with a huge smile on her face. Then the chorus of people joined in the action, standing up and bringing their hands together to the three sisters.

"Bravo! Bravo!"

"I think they liked us!" Lyrica whispered.

"Liked us? They LOVED us!" Merlin squeaked, "I-I'm so excited!"

Even the stoic Lunasa cracked a smile. Never mind the panicking from before, they had managed the daunting task of playing one of the difficult songs they've learnt! _I can't wait to tell Lady Yuyuko about this achievement when we get back! _She thought.

"Ladies."

Roderich walked up to the Prismriver sisters, a piece of tissue tucked away discreetly in his hand, "You've just earn yourselves a free meal, well done. I…" he paused uncharacteristically, "That was one of the most moving performances. You've left me speechless."

"Thank you," said Lunasa politely, "My name is Lunasa Prismriver. I'm humbled by your praise."

"I'm Merlin," the girl in white dress piped up, "Lovely to meet you, mister—"

"It's Roderich, Roderich Edelstein," he introduced himself quickly before turning to the keyboard player, "And you're…"

"Lyrica," the percussionist gave him a subtle nod.

"Miss Lyrica," repeated Roderich, "Pleased to be your acquaintance."

"Oh! These names are so strange!" Merlin was quick to pick up a menu, "Hmm… how do I pronounce this? The word looked so jumbled…"

"Merlin! Don't be so rude! You haven't thanked the man properly!"

"I did! Come on, Lunasa, I know you're hungry as well."

"Yes, but there's a need for table manners…"

"Please, allow me," the Austrian man pointed towards certain dishes on the menu, "This is called a Kasnocken. It is a pastry dish with cheese fillings. And this one is pronounced…"

As Roderich continued talking with her sisters, Lyrica maintained her distance, her eyes scrutinising the man as she pretended to flick through her own menu.

_Something is definitely not right with him,_ she thought, her hand stopping halfway through the mains section. _He is not human and I know it, but then again, he doesn't look like a youkai either. Maybe youkais in this outside world are all male without danmaku powers…_

"Lyrica?" Her prolonged silence has attracted the attention of the others, "So, do you agree we should have these dishes?"

"Wha… oh, sure. I don't care either way. I'm not really that hungry."

"Lyrica, don't be a spoilsport," Merlin groaned, "We don't get many opportunities like this, you know."

"Oh, sorry," she said distractedly, "Looking forward to it." Sighing, she handed the menu back to the waiter, who gave her a look of admiration. _I can't believe Lunasa and Merlin are so trusting of him! _She drummed her fingers underneath the table. _Well, just wait until after dinner, Mr Edelstein, and then I'll force you to reveal your dirty little secret._

* * *

Author's Notes:

1. Konzerthaus – a very famous concert hall in the city of Vienna. I'm pretty sure the symphony exists as well.

2. ORF 2 – state TV station in Austria, it normally plays cultural programs.

3. Now for the foods! Wiener schnitzel: veal meat dish. Sachertorte: chocolate cake with apricot filling and served with whipped cream (yum.) Kasnocken: cheese dumplings. Mokka: German word for mocha… I think.

4. "Darf ich Ihre Bestellung aufnehmen?" – May I take your order, sir? (Correct me if I'm wrong, all you fluent German speakers…)

5. Herr Koch – Mister chef. (Or at least that's what I think he's saying… OTL.)

6. Schindler's List: for those who don't know, Schindler's List is a movie by Steven Spielberg based on a true story in World War II. (I kind of described what happened in the story so you get the gist of it) Anyway, the theme song is absolutely beautiful and so is the movie, and the story itself just spells out the power of humanity. I'd recommend readers to see it and search up Oskar Schindler on the web.

So! That took ages… I hope you guys enjoyed it. Next up is Wang Yao… maybe a bit more on Honda Kiku's situation as well, seeing as Gensokyo is actually at his place.


	3. Oolong Tea with a Youkai

Thanks for the support everyone! Here's chapter 3.

Also, I know I've written about 9000 words for this fanfic, but about a third is from author's note...

EDIT (11/07/2012): After this, I won't be posting anymore chapters in a while because of school commitments. Next chapter (or chapters depends on my mood) won't be up until early November. Sorry about this. ^^;

EDIT (29/10/2012): Okay, changed one thing – from now on Yao will refer to the dragon as "shifu" – because "boss" sounds extremely awkward. Based on the two's relationship, Yao doesn't really treat him like an authority figure and I think "shifu" is more appropriate as it highlights that personal friendship between them, and still leaves the dragon as a respected, elderly figure.

* * *

3. Oolong Tea with a Youkai

He knew something was wrong when he saw the door of his apartment slightly ajar. A slit of daylight escaped from the opening, forming a diagonal track onto the floor of the dim corridor. No one else in sight, and the only sounds present were the muffled traffic downstairs and the air rushing out sporadically from his lungs.

Heart pounding, Wang Yao approached the door slowly. His right hand clutched at his car keys. Several thousand years of experiences had taught him to be alert, from assassins back in the many dynasties he spent with various emperors to holding a gun in front of the enemy during the modern wars. Now it was time to observe upon a possible ambush from a pesky burglar.

"Oh great," he mouthed, "I swear I've locked the door before I left, aru. Must be my old age catching up to me…"

Pushing open the door, he saw the normalcy of his apartment: freshly renovated wooden floors accompanied a set of redwood furniture, its smooth lacquer gleaming under the sunlight flooding through his French windows. A piece of calligraphy depicting the character of "dragon" in traditional Chinese hung on the wall, its strong, magnificent strokes presented nicely against the beige scroll it was pasted on. The square glass coffee table sat in front of the lounges, its surface covered by editions of "China Daily" and the remnants of his breakfast.

Yao could've sworn there was less food on the plates. Somehow he remembered having two Mantou left, but now there was only one. The cup of tea next to the plate was turned over; its contents had long dried up into the atmosphere, leaving behind little blemishes on the floor.

"Aiyaa… I'd have to clean that up now…" the Chinese man sighed, pushing the door to the right, "If I wasn't so busy with work all the time… huh?"

He watched as the door rebounded back slightly. It was at least a foot away from the magnetic door catcher.

_Wait, I don't own those shoes—_

"Hiya!" a fist shot out from his left. Yao tried to duck but his old age had slowed his reaction time and the hand ended up scraping at the top of his scalp. Yelling out in alarm he dived forward, turning around in time to see a flash of green fabric. Adrenaline rushed through him as he quickly pushed himself up with both hands, his eyes meeting a pair of emerald ones coming from his 'burglar'.

"Who… who the heck are you?" he yelled, "I—hey!" Yao grabbed the wrist that shot out from his left, his eyes peering at the youthful red-haired woman who was struggling against his iron grip, "Look! You shouldn't be breaking into people's homes aru—"

His words were cut off as the girl's other hand landed a crane jab at his stomach. Step! Yao almost slipped over from a stray chopstick as his opponent advanced towards him with a kick again, this time catching him in the legs.

"Wahh!" in desperado Yao grabbed hold of the girl's hand, the momentum sent both of them sliding across the polished floor and into a bar stool. A loud 'clang' rang through the lounge room as the stool toppled over, expressing its dismay on the two fighters. Groaning at his back pain, Yao shoved the metallic legs off his face while the girl crawled away quickly, nursing her throbbing head.

"C-can we stop and just talk?" spoke the Chinese man.

He was greeted by a flying plastic plate that skimmed right past his left ear. Climbing back up Yao quickly blocked a chop from the girl, who had no intention of giving up the fight. _Stumble! Crash!_ Yao caught his coffee table but couldn't save his teacup, but to his relief the newspapers flew at the girl, imprisoning her in the temporary prison of journalism. The lounge shuffled over with an unwilling screech as the qipao-clad 'burglar' removed a headline off her face, just in time to tilt her head away from the fist.

Panting, she cartwheeled away and recomposed herself, one of her hands reaching behind the shelf for a leather shoe. _One!_ It sailed over Yao's head. _Two!_ The gum boot bounced off Yao's arm, landing on the floor with a flop. _Three!_ As Yao started to smirk at the girl's bad aims, the geta Kiku gave him smacked straight into his face.

"Gotcha!"

"Ah… 他妈的…!"

"I'll tell you to laugh—ah!"

"Just stop, alright?" Yao screamed, as the aforementioned geta left the girl holding her stomach in pain, "Stop! I don't want to fight without reason, aru!"

"T-that's rich coming from you, you scoundrel!"

"Seriously, I mean it!" the Chinese man countered, wiping off the nosebleed from the impact, "Plus, it would be highly improper of me to fight a girl like you!"

"Oh, so you're calling me weak?"

"No! No, no, no that's not what I mean aru—"

Standing up with her hands glowing, the 'burglar' approached Yao, "What about that poor old man who was selling vegetables by the side of the road? Your friends send you here, didn't they? Your friends want to finish me off for what I did to THEM. Well, your friends deserved what they got for being a bunch of bullies!"

"什么?" Wang Yao held a defensive stance as the girl moved closer, "What are these 'friends' you're talking about? I LIVE here! This is my home! I have no intention of hunting you down or anything like that! What gave you that idea?"

"Well, they said they have several 'contacts' around this area," she replied, the light in her hand becoming more intense, "With a threat like that, I can't really trust anyone I meet."

"Look, I really live here, aru. Please put that… that thing down," Yao said nervously, "I wrote that calligraphy picture with a former boss of mine. Does this prove anything?"

"How do I know you're not making it up? Do you have any proof?"

"I know for a fact that corridor have eight pictures, aru. Each one of them had hand carved frames. One of them had a peony on it."

"Okay. It's a well-crafted frame, by the way."

"Thanks."

"Still doesn't prove anything, though."

_Urgh._ "Well, there's… there's a kitty plush toy with red bow-tie on my bed."

The girl raised her eyebrow in skepticism, but Yao could see the light in her hand dimming slightly.

"YOU own that hideous looking thing?"

"Hey! Shinatty-chan is not hideous, aru!" he said defiantly, "She's… she's the cutest thing ever!"

"W-whatever," said the girl, sweat dropping at the thought of the grown man cuddling up to a child's toy, "Still, how do I know you're not their boss? You may live here but that still doesn't clear your name."

Yao felt like knocking some senses into that girl, "Look, I'm not even attacking you now," he protested, "I don't even know what—"

"Yao! What the hell is going on? I've had people complaining about the n—"

Both occupants turned to the doorway where a middle-aged man stood frozen, his right hand clutching a bag of buk choy and a large bottle of soy sauce hung from his left. Like Yao, the man sprouts a head of natural black hair, but instead of a long ponytail his hair was short and choppy. A jade pendant hung around his neck, standing out against his dark green t-shirt.

"S-Shifu! You're back! I—" but the man ignored his remark, his hazel eyes transfixed upon the female intruder who was watching him cautiously.

"Oh my… Hong Meiling! Is… is that you? Is that really you?"

The red-haired youkai blinked in confusion, "How did you—"

"It's been a while!"

"How did you know my name?" the gatekeeper interrogated as the man raced around the apartment, closing doors and shutting blinds, "Who are you? Are you sent by someone to hunt me down, too?"

"Hush, Meiling! Have you forgotten about me?" to Yao's surprise, the other man's body began to distort in front of a stranger. His arms and legs melted into one with his torso and green rays started shooting from his body. Realising what was going on Yao quickly shielded the youkai's eyes as the light flooded the room like the lasers at a nightclub.

"Let me go—!"

"Wait! Just wait…"

Slowly the energy dissipated into thin air, allowing Wang Yao and Hong Meiling to greet the wizened face of the dragon with emerald-coloured scales. Edging away from the Chinese man, the youkai reached her hand out, as if checking her reality. Of course she knew him! Of course… she had a picture of them together on her bedroom wall at the Scarlet Mansion, painted when she first arrived at Gensokyo. It was one of the few memories she had of the outside world.

Yao stood back and watched in awe as Meiling touched his Shifu' nose, unaffected by his intimidating appearance.

"Qing Long…" she whispered, "It really has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Shifu! How… why…" Yao pouted, "Is she one of your friends? How come you never told me about her?"

"Yao—"

"I thought she was a burglar, aru!"

"Whoa, whoa! Don't hit me with that!" the dragon quickly recoiled from a flying cushion, "Let's-let's just clean this mess up first, okay?"

* * *

"Gosh, those policemen are so nosey, aru," Yao closed the door behind him.

"You're the one who was fighting, Yao."

"Shifu! Meiling started it first!" he said, "She tried to kill me, aru!"

"I'm sorry, alright?" Meiling argued, slowly coming out from Yao's bedroom, "It's my duty as a gatekeeper to be suspicious of others!"

The past hour had passed without any major incidents, where the three residents peacefully cleaned up the area and arranged the furniture back to their rightful place. Three policemen turned up to their doorstep as Qing Long (in his human form) prepared for tea, and Yao was soon handed with the diplomatic duty of coming up with something to say to them. Grumbling, the Chinese man had to patiently explain the fight was a huge misunderstanding on behalf of both parties, and the noise was not the effect of domestic violence or burglary. Needless to say, the three policemen were not impressed and Yao was forced to pay a fine of two hundred and fifty Yuan for "inappropriate behaviour in a residential area which evokes fear to other residents".

"Yeah well, if you would just stop and talk like I told you to, aru," Wang Yao shook his head, "I wouldn't have to waste so much money."

"You sounded like one of the Europeans," said his Shifu, amused.

"And you still owes me an explanation, aru."

"Yao, calm down and have some tea. Preserved plums, anyone?" he handed them a bag of dried grey fruit.

Meiling took the offer, but the embodiment of China crossed his arms, unimpressed.

The dragon sighed, "Meiling," he turned to her, "How did you end up fighting him anyway?"

"Well…" the youkai's fingers wrapped around the small tea cup, "I thought he was one of those bullies from the street."

"Bullies?"

She took a sip, allowing the warm, fragrant liquid swirl around her mouth, "They were trying to rob this poor old man selling vegetables. I told them to stop but they jeered at my appearance. And then I kind of took things into my own hands…"

"Ohhh, don't tell me…" Qing Long groaned, rubbing his hands in his face, "You didn't attack them, did you?"

"Well, the poor old man was severely disadvantaged!" Hong Meiling said indignantly, "I couldn't let them just get away with it!"

_Wait, red hair and green qipao? _Yao suddenly recorded the nonsense snippet of news from his car.

_"Serious incident near Guangxia Way… three men had been taken into hospital with injuries…"_

"You sent three men to hospital?" said Yao, astonished.

"Humph, they deserved it anyway."

"But… couldn't you just call the police or something?" the Chinese man argued, "I mean, those people could've sued you for assault!"

"Oh come on, assault?" the youkai scoffed as she reached for an apple, "Those bullies should be able to take a few broken bones and burns, I mean, their victims probably suffered worse," she narrowed her eyes, "Or do you support the bullies for what they've done?"

"Wha—of course not, aru!" said Yao, outraged at the accusation, "But I would be doing something a sensible human would do, and that is to call the police!"

"Police? You mean someone like Kotohime?" Meiling raised her eyebrow, "Damn it, should've thought of that!"

"Wow, what's with the sudden change of attitude?" the dragon inquired.

"I should've called the police so they could take those men and kill them with danmaku!" she declared.

Yao almost fell off his chair, "You're the least sensible human I've ever met!" he said, "And… what is this danmaku thing? Sounds Japanese to me aru…"

"Um, Yao?"

"What is it, Shifu?"

Qing Long and Meiling exchanged a nervous glance, "Should I tell him?" he said.

Meiling sighed, "Um… I don't see why not. You do know each other."

Yao scratched his head, "What are you two talking about?" he asked.

"Well," Qing Long rubbed his hands together, an awkward smile spread across his face, "You see, my friend Meiling here… she is not human."

There was a moment of silence as the Chinese man took in this information, "Oh," he said, "Well, that's alright then. I mean, you're a dragon and most of your friends do have supernatural powers," he turned to Meiling, "So… are you like me as well, aru?"

She gave him a puzzled look, "Like… you? What?"

"I'll explain later," the dragon interrupted quickly, "Yao, she… Meiling is a youkai."

"Ah, okay, a youkai," Yao repeated, "So that's what she—"

_Wait._

_A youkai..._ Kiku's words resurfaced from his mind. _Hold on,_ _wasn't youkai the Japanese word for—_

Three pigeons sitting on the balcony were enjoying the sunshine when a terrified yell of "Aiyaaaa!" sent them fluttering into the sky. Back inside, Wang Yao had run into his bedroom and slammed the door, leaving behind a deafened dragon and a very confused youkai.

"Yao! Yao, look, it's okay!"

"What's wrong with him?" asked Meiling.

The dragon sighed, finding a piece of apple Sugus in his sweatpants, "He's—"

"观音菩萨保佑我啊! I just had tea with a… a… a 妖怪! Ahhhhhh!"

"—as I was saying, Yao is a very superstitious person," Qing Long continued, "Sorry. I think I might have a talk with him… oh dear. In the meantime, please make yourself at home," he smiled, "We'll be having dinner in about an hour."

* * *

As the subway rolled away from Koiwa station, Honda Kiku walked towards the ticket machine, his bags of groceries hanging precariously from his right fingers as his left hand searched through his folder for his ticket. Gently, he balanced the black folder with his right knee as he peered into pages after pages of paperwork, but to no avail.

"Excuse me, sir."

Kiku turned around. The red and white shrine maiden from the central station was standing a few metres away with her partner, her gohei pointing at his pocket.

"I think you've put it in there."

Shoving his hand into his pocket, he felt the smoothness of the cardboard against his fingers, "Ah," he sighed with relief, "どうもありがとうございました."

"No problem, Mr Honda Kiku," said Yukari, tilting her parasol to the side.

The embodiment of Japan immediately became suspicious, "You… you know my name?" he asked carefully, "Do I know you, madam?"

"M-m-madam?" an eerie aura surrounded the girl. She gripped her parasol tightly, as if she was about to snap the handle any time soon. If looks could kill, everyone in this station would be dead by now. "I-I mean, of course," the boundary youkai quickly recomposed herself, much to Kiku's amusement, "Have you forgotten about me?"

Kiku peered at her face, carefully scrutinising it. The golden hair, the aloof facial expression… his mind travelled back to a slightly blurry memory, where he was face-to-face with a young girl who looked just like her… it was a memorable face, due to her odd appearance compared with other people in the village. Time has since worn away much of the details, but there was still enough for him to identify the mysterious woman standing in front of him.

Especially since the shrine maiden had shouted out her name before.

"You… you're Yakumo Yukari..."

Author's Notes:

1. Let's get the foods out of the way! Oolong – a type of tea grown in Southern China; Mantou - fluffy white buns eaten for breakfast (yum); Sugus - a type of lolly; Preserved plum – snack food, they look grey and wizened and powdered on the outside and they have a nice tangy taste to them!

2. China Daily – newspaper. It is published in English. Popular amongst expats from English speaking backgrounds or any locals who is looking to improve their English language skills.

3. Geta – those wooden sandals from Japan. One would think it's going to hurt a lot when you get hit by one in the face…

4. 他妈的 – ah… well, that's the f-word in Chinese. (dodges tomatoes)

5. "什么?" – "What?"

6. Yuan – Chinese currency.

7. Kotohime – character Phantasmagoria of Dim. Dream (One of the PC-98 games... actually learnt that from reading another fanfic.)

8. "观音菩萨保佑我啊!" – "O Avalokiteśvara, protect/bless me!" 观音菩萨 (Avalokiteśvara) – a popular Bodhisattva (enlightenment being) from Buddism.

9. 妖怪 – youkai.

10. どうもありがとうございました (Dōmo arigatōgozaimashita) – "Thank you very much."

I felt that Hong Meiling deserves some kind of backstory, and because of speculations and all that I came up with this idea of her knowing Yao's dragon. Mind you, it's just friendship and any suggestion of romantic shipping between them can go to hell. On a side note: I'll be referring to Yao's dragon as Qing Long from now on. I initially thought of calling him just "Dragon" but realised it's too generic.

Next up: Honda Kiku faces a long forgotten... acquaintance.


	4. An Old Acquaintance

Hey guys! Sorry about the long delay. I just finished my exams a few days ago. I'm also working on my Pokemon fanfic as well, so that's why progress has been a bit slow.

Anyway... last time we had Yao and Meiling meeting each other. At the end of last chapter, Yukari and Reimu met Honda Kiku (aka Japan). So this is how it went...

* * *

4. An Old Acquaintance

"You… you're Yakumo Yukari..."

"Yes, I am."

It didn't take long before Kiku was feeling suspicious again, "Hold on," he uttered, "Ms Yakumo, The last time I saw you it was… was…"

"Many years ago?" she answered.

The shrine maiden next to her was getting impatient, "Yukari," she asked, "Why are we following this man here? If you know him then just say it!"

"Oh, of course I know Mr Honda," she said lightly, "The problem is he doesn't remember me… much," sighing, she lifted her finger and pointed at him, "Maybe this will help."

A buzzing sound filled his ears. Gently, Kiku touched his forehead as if testing for signs of headache but the buzz proved to be no louder than the vibration made by bees. In his mind, the blurry picture of the blonde girl with purple dress was slowly becoming clearer like hands wiping away at window mists.

"Many years ago, in that village," Kiku uttered, "That village had some problem with invading youkais! Ms Yakumo, weren't you the one who banished them?"

"That can be explained, Mr Honda. And please, call me Yukari," she said lightly, before looking around at her surroundings, "But save the talk for now, this is not the appropriate place for a chat."

"Oh…" he blinked, catching the curious glance of a few people, "Well, there is this excellent sushi place nearby—"

"It's too public," Yukari shook her head, smiling, "I was thinking of a more private place, Mr Honda... would it be alright if we go to your home instead?"

That caught Kiku off guard. Yes, he may've known her from a few hundred years ago, but it was only for a short time – there was so much he did not know about this pretty woman in front of him. In addition, the shrine maiden may be Yukari's friend, but to him she was a stranger, and Kiku don't normally invite strangers to his residence. Furthermore, what would the neighbours think if they saw him with two young, female minors? Most of the neighbours knew he lived alone, after all…

"I—" he started, "I don't think this is a good idea—"

"What if I say you could be back at home in a matter of seconds, Mr Honda?" replied Yukari, her fingers tapping at the large black folder overfilled with documents, "Dear, dear… it's not healthy for an old man like you to carry so much in one go!"

"何て?"

The shrine maiden interjected, "Yukari! You can't just—"

"Tsk, Reimu… you're getting too worked up about this."

Hakurei Reimu sighed in disgust, "You do this to just about everyone, humans and youkais alike…" she scratched her head, "Just remember our powers aren't exactly in infinite use here."

Before the Japanese man could protest any further, the shrine maiden quickly shoved him behind a clump of bush next to the fence. Kiku soon find himself trapped between the wires and the two females advancing toward him. Shards of broken glass crunched underneath his leather shoe. It was then a rim of purple energy began to expand beneath his feet. Without any warning, Kiku felt himself falling into empty space, only to land on his bed. Yelling out in warning, he rolled to the side as Reimu's gohei bounced onto the floor, soon followed by its owner who came stumbling out of the purple gap, hitting face-first into Kiku's wardrobe.

"Sorry about the turbulence!" said Yukari playfully, her voice echoing from the other side, "I have to conserve my powers, and gaps in the outside world are harder to manipulate!"

"W-what did you just do?" said Kiku loudly, before covering his mouth and uttering a quiet apology.

"It-it's her power," said Reimu quickly, rubbing her forehead. She felt sorry for the bewildered Japanese man in front of her, "She's a youkai who can manipulate borders—"

"Youkai?" Kiku shouted again, his voice bouncing off the bedroom walls.

"Look, we can explain!" she turned to Yukari who landed onto the bed with a soft 'plonk', chuckling with great amusement, "And you can stop giggling now! Look what you just did!" Reimu shouted, her gohei pointing at a bewildered Kiku, "We should've just walked here instead!"

"Oh, but it's too far," Yukari folded up her parasol, and the purple gap in the ceiling absorbed into its tip, "We've been walking all day and my feet are getting sore," she pouted.

"W-well that explained how you got rid of the youkais in the first place, M—Yukari, but…" he bit his lip – he hasn't regarded the existence of mystical beings since the technology revolution in his country, and now this happens! "You—I thought youkais eat humans—"

"Nice to know someone has done their research, but you're not exactly human, are you?" said Yukari.

"I haven't seen any youkai dining on humans in a while, to be honest," Reimu shrugged, "Youkai in Gensokyo are more civilised nowadays… even the Scarlets get some of their blood supplies from Eirin's human blood bank," she glared at Yukari, "Still, being civilised doesn't stop them from being _excruciatingly_ annoying."

Even with Reimu's assurance, Kiku was unwilling to approach the two. He slowly backed towards the door.

"P-pardon me, ladies, but why are you looking for me?"

"Well, according to this gap ha—I mean, Yukari over here, you two seemed to know each other," said the shrine maiden in an accusatory tone, "And… didn't she say you weren't human? So if you're some weird youkai who lives in the outside world, spill."

"I—this is a very odd question to ask someone, miss," Kiku protested, "Um, l-look, how about I go and make some tea for the both of you. Please forgive my rudeness! I don't normally expect guests so…" his mind searched for the right word, "Suddenly."

With that, the Japanese man hurried out of the room, leaving the illusionary border duo to ponder for their next approach.

* * *

"W-would you like some more water, Yukari?" Kiku asked politely.

"Oh! Thank you, Mr Honda," she smiled, picking up a seaweed-flavoured cracker, "See this, Reimu? You should learn more about how to treat your guests, like my dear acquaintance here."

Reimu narrowed her eyes, "If I do youkais like you would be swarming into the shrine every day for teas and snacks. Plus, I don't get enough donations to be _that_ hospitable."

"Sounds like you have a hard time running the shrine," Kiku remarked, "You have my sympathies."

"Thank you! Someone finally understands me!" the miko threw her arms into the air, "You have no idea the kind of crap I have to deal with every day! Like that idiotic ice fairy and her friends and the tengu reporter—"

"Now, now, don't exaggerate. You're not the only one running a shrine, Hakurei," said Yukari, "Sanae is in the same boat as you and I rarely hear her complain."

"That's because her shrine doesn't get the same amount of traffic like I do."

"Ahem, excuse me," Kiku cleared his throat, "I'd hate to intrude but… could someone explain why you wanted to talk to me?"

Yukari put down her cup, "Well, Mr Honda. I know you're not human. Ah! Don't try to deny it either—" she held up her finger as Kiku began to protest, "I've done my research, and know you're the personification of our country, Japan."

"Um, excuse me?" Reimu raised her hand, her eyebrows raised, "_Personification _of Japan? Yukari, is this nasty pollution in the outside world starting to affect your brain?"

"P-pardon me," Kiku interrupted, "Ladies… I don't really see the point in this exercise."

"To put it plainly – I don't exactly spend my entire youkai life sleeping at home, as _some _humans may think." At this comment, Reimu crossed her arms, "For my own curiosity I decided to study the outside world – you know – just to learn the different ways of life. Now, every now and then, I would notice several... oh, how would I put it – persons of interest. Years would pass and they would appear as if they have never aged past their mid-twenties."

"G-go on."

"At first I thought they're just simply good at maintaining their youthfulness, but something wasn't right - they would remain that state over the span of centuries!" Yukari's voice began to rise a little, "It was like stumbling upon a new species of youkai!"

"S-so you've been spying on us this whole time?" said Kiku. A mixture of astonishment and fear washed over him.

"Mr Honda, I'd prefer the word 'observing'."

"Don't mind her, she 'observes' on everyone," Reimu grumbled.

Kiku twirled his teacup around, "How did you find—I mean, come to a conclusion about your findings?"

The gap youkai tapped her bottom lip, "Oh… I think…" she said playfully, "One of my subjects of study was this young man with brown hair and a funny curl on his head. One day I heard him shouting _'Germany! Germany!'_ when this muscular blond man told him to be quiet and do more push-ups," Yukari smiled as the Japanese man covered his mouth in utter shock, "I remember reading the word off a map from Rinnosuke's shop and managed to put both facts together, that's all."

"W-what you saw there were my allies, Feliciano and Ludwig," he explained, "But – y-you were lucky to see that! We often refer to each other by our human names, for the sake of security."

"I see," Yukari nodded, "So, Mr Honda… are you willing to tell us about yourself now?"

"Would be nice if you do," the shrine maiden said, taking another sip of tea from her cup, "From the sheer number of youkais who are now in the outside world, it would be nice to have your friends helping out with the incident."

The Japanese man accidentally knocked over his teacup, "What? There are other youkais here? Now?"

"Long story short, this strange vortex appeared above Gensokyo one day. Some of the residents decided it was a place worth investigating and got too close to it. Within seconds the vortex sucked them in and they did not reappear," she narrowed her eyes, "Initially, I thought it was a prank from Yukari that had gone too far, but apparently, she said wasn't like that."

"Of course not," and, for the first time since Kiku has met the duo, he saw the gap youkai's expression grow serious, "You see, there is this border around Gensokyo which was co-constructed by several generation of humans and I, when Japan began to step into the scientific and technological age. I may be able to control what gets in and out of Gensokyo, but the border itself has faults beyond my control," she snapped a cracker in half, "For instance, the border has been shaken by earthquakes, but thank goodness they're not powerful enough to make things like this happen all the time. The last time there's been a youkai escapade was the August of 1945 in the outside calendar, when the border reached its weakest point. I'm assuming you know what happened in that year which caused this?"

Kiku winced. It was definitely a part of history he would rather forget, "I do. But in that year, you didn't come looking for my assistance."

"That's because only two or three youkais escaped – all of them are relatively weak in combat so it was easier to deal with. Besides, you weren't in any good condition to assist us, weren't you?"

"Yes, I wasn't," he muttered, "S-so what happened this time?"

"Well," Reimu spoke up, "For the past few months Yukari had been noticing the border disintegrating slowly, but doesn't really_ bother_ to tell anyone about it," she rolled her eyes, "Only now, after having it almost collapsing for the second time, she bothers to enlist my help and have both of us put more powerful spells on it."

"The border can't stay strong forever by itself, you know," Yukari debated, "Plus, I was planning to do maintenance work on it. I just wasn't expecting it to happen so suddenly."

"Yeah, I'm sure you were," the shrine maiden grumbled, "Still, it could've been avoided if you weren't so lazy."

"Look on the bright side – at least those youkais are getting this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience the outside world," Yukari smiled, "I don't see why you're so tense about the whole thing."

"W-wait a minute, Yukari," Kiku stuttered, "What are these youkais like? Do I – I mean, hypothetically, if I was to help you, would I need to utilise the military to stop them?"

"Too much exposure," the youkai shook her head, "Plus, you don't need a military to stop them – haven't you been listening to Reimu and I talking earlier?"

"What?"

"For some strange reason," Reimu explained, "Our powers are limited when we're in the outside world, so I would think they can be stopped by someone in the outside world who possesses sufficient magical powers, or someone with phenomenal fighting skills. Judging by the weapons in your bedroom, I'm assuming you're a swordsman yourself?"

The Japanese man nodded, "Yes. I'm a bit rusty on the skills though... but please, I must ask, who are these youkais and where are they right now? The thought of these youkais endangering lives of civilians over the world… I am very concerned."

"As far as I know, they're scattered all over the outside world by the vortex," Yukari answered, "Judging from the map in Rinnosuke's shop and my own surveillance, I've seen the Scarlet sisters walking around this structure called the Eiffel Tower in a country called France…" Kiku's eyebrows rose, "Basically, they could be anywhere. That's why I thought I should ask for your help."

"But… what would you like me to do, if I was to help in your quest? Right now, the only thing I can do is contact my colleagues."

"That would be a good start, Mr Honda."

"Do you know all these youkais' names?" he questioned.

Reimu pulled out a little notebook from her pocket. The paper on it was yellow with age, and the year was dated at 1968.

"I took down a few names. Let's see… about two-thirds of the Scarlet's household are out here. Can't believe Flandre Scarlet actually managed to get out – I thought that vampire sister of hers would've kept a closer watch on her movements! Marisa Kirisame… magician, not a youkai. She helped me with a lot of incidents, Yukari is still trying to track her down. Speaking of magicians, Alice Margatroid is also on the list! There's also that crazy doctor Yagokoro and her master, Princess Kaguya Houraisan—"

"E-excuse me?" said Kiku, astonished, "Princess—you don't mean _Kaguya-hime_, from Tale of the Bamboo Cutter?"

"The very same one," replied Yukari.

Honda Kiku digested this information. A character from one of the oldest folktales in Japan – according to this woman who had teleported him moments earlier – is real. Still, he did not dared to dismiss the possibility that the exiled princess is walking in the busy streets of Tokyo, at this present moment. From all that he had experienced today, if Yukari had just told him pigs can fly, the chances of him believing in that would've increased ten-fold.

Noticing the tea spilt earlier was soaking into the cushions, Kiku stood up and headed towards the kitchen. He later returned, watched on by the two Gensokyo residents as he proceeded to mop up the mess with a dark green tea towel.

"Mr Honda—"

"I'll see what I can do, Yukari," the Japanese man said quickly, "I'll try and spread the words through emails and video conferences. As for whether my colleagues will treat this seriously, that is something that I, alone, cannot guarantee."

"Oh, good," Reimu breathed a sigh of relief, "Finally, someone who is willing to cooperate with us! Say, what are 'eee-maye-ils', by the way? Sound like some new-fangled things in the outside world."

"You know those computer things? It's a task that can be performed by them."

"Oh! Those_ mini-shikigami_ things!"

The embodiment of Japan almost fell over at this. _Did she just say a computer is a shikigami? Oh dear… the next few days is going to be very interesting indeed._

* * *

That night, Honda Kiku picked up his own copy of "Tale of the Bamboo Cutter", which was written on a magnificent scroll. Reimu and Yukari had left a few hours ago to "rest in a hotel" somewhere, allowing him some peace and quiet to contemplate on his next move. The day's event was still fresh on his mind as he read the first sentence out aloud.

"_Long, long ago, there lived an old bamboo wood-cutter. He was very poor and sad also, for no child had Heaven sent to cheer his old age…"_

He stopped.

_What am I supposed to do now, with all this youkai business happening and all?_ His fingers traced at the beautiful illustrations on the scroll, sighing. _Still, it would be an honour to meet Kaguya-hime because, according to the legends, she is so beautiful men are willing to go the extra miles, just to see her. I do pity them, of course… trying so hard to please this one person do seem extremely obsessive._

The laptop next to him had finished loading the desktop, and Kiku wasted no time opening his email account. His email is piled up with messages: from important notifications about the next world meeting, to random, pointless chain mails from Alfred about Bill Gates and scary ghosts that'll haunt you if you don't forward the message. _Maybe I should set up the account so that any of Alfred's email goes to the "Junk" pile. _The Japanese man thought. _But that probably won't be appropriate… in case if he ever sends me important information about the economy or military…_

_Vampires, tsukumogamis, magicians… goodness me, this will be fun to explain._ Kiku shook his head again, while looking at the list Reimu gave him. He clicked on the "New Message" button, and started typing…

* * *

Author's notes:

Not too many things to note this time.

1. "何て?" (Nani?) – "What?"

2. DISCLAIMER: I thought it would be necessary to put this in so I don't get sued for anything. The story "Tale of the Bamboo Cutter" is a fictitious Japanese tale and Kaguya is only 'real' in terms of this fanfiction I'm writing, okay? I know I set my story in real world 2012 and I put in real cultural/historical references because it is as much of a Hetalia story as it is a Touhou story, but please, there's a difference between fantasy and reality. (also, a friend of mine suggested this idea for the fanfic, so full credits to her for the idea)

3. If you're wondering what this thing with "Mr Honda", I initially had Yukari using "Kiku-san". I had a hard time deciding on whether to put in Japanese honorifics or not. In the end I felt that, because I know hardly any Japanese other than "hello", "goodbye" and a few other random words, I'm going to leave them out so I don't get confused while writing this fanfic, and no one calls me a weeaboo.

4. Oh yes. CHAIN MAILS. I used to get them and send them off to people when I was in primary school. Ehehe…

Next up is either the Awesome Gilbert, or a certain micronation, or... does anyone want to see what will happen to Francis Bonnefoy? (I haven't decided yet)


	5. The Phoenix and the Eagle

Chapter 5. Be warned that this chapter contains references to drinking and smoking. Now, I shall make this clear: I do not support smoking in any shape or form, okay? I also do not support getting drunk and wasted – I mean, to go to all that trouble and you risk doing stupid things in a semi-conscious state and/or have liver poisoning, what's the point?

* * *

5. The Phoenix and the Eagle

Friday night down at the nightclub is one of the favourite ways Gilbert Beilschmidt likes to end his working week. Sure, he may not be an official country anymore, but a part of his is still Germany, and for that reason it gave his little brother Ludwig the right to set him tasks, such as cleaning up the whole house or organising paperwork for the billionth time.

Now, that was definitely not awesome.

"West! Seriously, how come the _awesome me _had to do these jobs? Why can't you just hire a cleaning lady and a secretary?"

"Because, _bruder_," Ludwig rubbed his forehead, his left eye twitching in annoyance, "With the state of economy the world is in right now, I can hardly afford to employ more people to the office."

"And because I'm your brother, you expect me to work for you for free?"

"Not entirely. I give you two hundred euros each week as pocket money."

"That's a compulsory sum of money to ensure I get fed, have at least one beer each week and the ability to pay the bills," the former state of Prussia argued, "Besides, our economy is not that bad! We're not like Heracles or Antonio!"

The more mature brother groaned. He knew if he gave Gilbert more money he would probably spend it on something ridiculous, like a gilded cage for his pet, Gilbird, or a life-sized panda plushie from Wang Yao. After several more minutes of intense argument, Gilbert finally gave up and stomped off, leaving Ludwig alone with his three German shepherd dogs to spend his Friday night.

_Oh well… there's a re-run of Berlin Alexanderplatz on right now, might as well watch it._ Ludwig thought as he salvaged some salted peanuts and beef jerky from the cupboard, and took a can of beer from his fridge. At the same time, the microwave had finished heating up his salzstangen, and he took great joy in sniffing the lovely aroma from the dough. He sat down and glanced at the snack food he would be having – most of them are big no-nos in his quest to maintain a healthy body. However, since it was Friday night, he decided to shake off his guilty conscience and indulge a bit. _Just like what Feliciano said… we all need to have to eat our favourite food every now and then, otherwise we won't function well mentally._ He popped some salted peanuts into his mouth, remembering the day when Kiku stopped eating salted seafood products, and the mental breakdown he (and others) had when he declared that he was going to abstain from beer to support the Japanese man's causes. Ludwig shuddered at the thought of it, before sitting back with all his dogs gathered around him.

Halfway through the episode, Ludwig's doorbell rang. While his dogs jumped at the noise and ran to the door, he shouted, "Your apology is accepted, _bruder_!"

There was no reply, and the dogs continued to bark with excitement. Realising the person on the other side may not be Gilbert he slowly got up, switching the TV to mute.

_Who would be coming at this hour?_ He watched as the longer clock hand moved to twelve, while the short hand stayed on eight. _Maybe it's one of the government ministers or one of the nations… but they really should ring first and make an appointment._

* * *

The electronic pop music permeated through the walls, their beats hypnotising all the people around the speakers to get on their feet and dance wildly. One girl was nodding her head to the beat, while another boy had begun breakdancing on the polished wooden floor, catching the attention of many. The residential DJ had her fingers rubbing against the discs, while her left hand busied themselves adjusting the mixing board. One had to wonder how on earth she managed to produce those amazing sounds, when there are so many complicated controls to deal with.

At the bar, Gilbert was sitting by himself, getting through his second glass of beer. He looked around him and scowled. Not that he was displeased with the music playing, but he was unable to contact Francis and Antonio for a get-together tonight. In fact, with the way things are going in Europe right now, both of them could barely get off work to spend some time with him. They haven't partied together for almost eight months now! On top of that, he was still mad at Ludwig from before.

"I'm not in an awesome mood tonight, am I?" he muttered, sighing. His eyes turning back to the TV hung from the ceiling, next to a row of vodka on the shelves. Some soccer game was playing on the screen, courtesy of the pay TV channels the owners had paid to set up. It was an old match from thirty years ago, however, which was broadcasted as part of the program's nostalgic segment. Gilbert knew exactly who was going to kick the ball next and the score at the end of the match, so it was pointless for him to watch it again. Turning back to the dance floor, he scanned at the people present, his mind pondering who he should try and impress next…

"Nice wig, did you make it yourself?" a voice rang in his ears.

Gilbert jumped and whirled around. A young woman no older than eighteen had decided to sit next to him. Like him, her hair was white as snow, and they cascaded down to a point above her ankles. Pieces of red-and-white were tied in different places of her hair, with the largest piece fixed on top of her head. Her clothes resembled that of a construction worker – a long sleeved brown shirt, along with a dark, reddish overalls decorated with the same type of paper in her hair.

"A wig?" Gilbert snorted, his finger flicking at the bang above her forehead, "Don't insult me, girl. I'm way too awesome to wear wigs! These are my real hair!"

The girl looked sceptical and moved forward, her right hand grabbed at a section of the man's hair. Cringing at the sudden reaction Gilbert leant back, almost falling off his bar stool.

"H-hey!" the albino protested, one of his hands trying to swat the girl away, "Don't touch—owww! What was that for, you—!"

"Okay, so it is real hair. I'll take your words for it," the girl said nonchalantly, her fingers pinching at the strand of white plucked from the man. On the opposite end, Gilbert was glaring at her, his hand hovering protectively over his head.

"How would you like it if I do it to you?" he retorted, rubbing his scalp.

"I wouldn't mind – I'll be able to regenerate it, anyway," the girl replied with the same tone of indifference, before flicking her hair in his direction, "Go on. Pull my hair, if you dare."

"Actually, I was thinking of poking your eyes out – are those for real, or are you wearing contacts?"

"Well, I'd like to know the same thing about you," she said, furrowing her brow, "And… contacts? Why would I want to wear a bunch of associates in my eyes?"

"Not that kind of contact. I meant those little plastic round things people put in their eyes to change the colour of their iris," Gilbert explained, "Haven't you hear of them before?"

The white-haired girl shook her head. "What's your name?" she asked.

"I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, former member of the super-awesome Teutonic Knights… Football Club!" he declared, "Kesesese… what's yours?"

"Fujiwara no Mokou," said the girl. She rubbed her fingers and – floom – a small fire materialised in her hand. Smirking as Gilbert's eyes goggled at the flame, she continued, "Say… would you like a cigarette?"

"Ah, sorry miss," the bartender, who was polishing a beer mug, spoke up, "If you want to smoke you'll have to go into the designated area," he pointed to an area beyond the dance floor, "Over there with the rubbish bins."

"Oh, to the Former Hell with that," Mokou sniped back and lit her cigarette anyway, much to the dismay of the bartender, "Not even that b*stard of an owner from the Human Village has a problem with me smoking in his bar."

"Kesesese… you remind me of Elizaveta. I like it," said Gilbert.

"Now listen here!" said the bartender, slamming down the beer mug in his hands, "The German law says smokers like you have to go to that area! We set it up specially to cater for our smoking customers so the least you could do is show some courtesy, you ungrateful little—!"

"What? You want your customers to sit with the rubbish bins?"

"That—we're currently renovating that area—"

"_Mein gott_," Gilbert interrupted, "Look here, until that area is deemed awesome enough to smoke in, leave the young lady alone, okay?" he tapped at the ornate clock which was fixed to his end of the bar, "Besides, it's past ten o'clock. The authorities won't be coming to check anyway. Now quit being the fun police and get back to your job."

A sharp intake of breath later, the bartender pursed his lips and stormed off, muttering about having to deal with over-demanding customers. The albino man watched with an amused expression on his face, while Mokou stared at this man – who looked good enough to be one of her distant relatives – as burnt tobacco dripped from her cigarette to the ground.

"T-thank you," she said, as a plume of cigarette smoke escaped her mouth, "I haven't seen anyone stand up to me like that since Keine defended me from moon-b*tch's assassins."

Gilbert tilted his head, "You don't get treated well by others?"

"Heh… I get death stares and back-chatted a lot, but I'm used to it," said Mokou nonchalantly, "I tried being friendly to villagers by selling yakitori, but my stand kept on getting run over by that stupid sparrow girl…"

"What's yakitori?" Gilbert asked, "Sounds like something from Kiku's house."

"Here…" the girl searched in her pocket and pulled out some grilled chicken skewers, "They're still warm. Sorry about the bits of fluff though."

It tasted a bit dry, but the flavour was still there as it exploded in his mouth. Gilbert could taste the saltiness from the soy sauce, as well as the honey-like essence infused in amongst the mostly savoury dish. He took a few sniff and swore there was a hint of alcohol added during the making of this skewer – was it sake or some other types of wine? Either way, the yakitori was quite delectable, and washes down well with a mug of beer.

"That was excellent! You should think about being a full-time chef, Mokou," said Gilbert, winking at her, "Of course, give me a few months and I'll probably end up making better skewers than you! Kesesese…"

At first, the phoenix girl wasn't quite sure whether she should continue with wherever this conversation will lead her to. Sure, this Gilbert is a complete stranger to her and has this arrogant attitude which did annoy her slightly, but there was something else she needed to find out about him. Mokou could feel a kind of special essence emitting from the man, and it wasn't caused simply by his odd appearance or his egotistical personality. _No, it was something else. Something about him doesn't feel right to me…_

So Mokou stayed on her seat, while Gilbert continued to chat with her. From their conversations, she now know that Gilbert has a younger brother who always bosses him around, which is not very awesome, thank you very much. He has a pet bird, which he named Gilbird. That told her that of all the names he could've chosen for his pet, it just sounded so predictable from a narcissist like him. Gilbert keeps a journal, and Mokou couldn't help but guess that all the entries involved phrases such as "I'm so awesome" or "I'm the coolest person in the whole damn world". He then claimed, quite loudly, that his manhood is five metres long. This caused all the men at the bar to spit out their drinks, and all the women to blush or turn away in disgust.

That was when Mokou decided enough is enough – Gilbert had reached a drunken state and should be heading home, "Come on, dude. We better get going," she said.

"Oh no, Mokou… we should stay! You are my good buddy…" he slurred, slapping on her back. The girl was quite tempted to slap him on the face, but at the last second Keine's advice filled her mind and she stopped with her hand raised in mid-air. _Damn it, Keine. I never thought your teachings would actually infiltrate my brain._ She thought.

Her eyes spotted something yellow dangling out of the man's right pocket. Curious, she took it out and discovered it was one of those funny things Rinnosuke sold at his shop – what were they called again? _A mobile, wasn't it?_ While Gilbert went on rambling about Teutonic Knights and random things about Templars and crusades, the phoenix girl fumbled with the touchscreen smartphone and somehow found herself viewing a list of contacts. She scrolled through the names, coming across one marked "Ludwig (bruder)". _Could this be the brother he was talking about? Well… if he's a relative, best to tell him he has a drunken brother to pick up._

Without thinking Mokou tapped on the phone button and raised it to her right ear. She felt a bit foolish as dial tones reached her ear. Okay, she might have seen a certain gap youkai operate one of these before, but she wasn't completely sure how they work…

A slight vibration from the phone almost shocked her into dropping the gadget. Trembling, Mokou remained silent as a deep voice spoke from the tiny speakers.

"Guten tag, bruder. Are you ready to apologise yet?"

The girl facepalmed. _Damn it, I haven't rehearsed on what I was going to say!_ "U-uh… hello. Actually, this is… um… Gilbert's friend," she couldn't help but inwardly wince at her use of the word. _Friend? What were you thinking, Mokou? We've only known each other for a few hours!_

"Gilbert's friend?" the other voice sound puzzled, "You don't sound like Francis or Antonio to me."

"Uh… l-look," Mokou shifted away from Gilbert as he tried to grab the phone, "I'm just acting out of concern, but your brother is drunk and I don't know where he lives."

The man on the other phone sighed heavily, "Not again… I wish he would just grow up sometimes. Yeah, hold on…" Mokou could hear the man shouting at someone else in the background, before he returned to her, "I'll be coming over with an acquaintance. Where are you?"

"Uhh… at a bar?"

"You're going to have to be more specific, lady. There are a lot of bars in Berlin."

Mokou's eyes darted around and found the neon sign, "It's called…" she reiterated the name of the place, just as Gilbert's hand touched her phone hand.

"H-hey!"

Gilbert snatched his property off the girl and mumbled some gibberish into the phone. Even through the noise, Mokou could hear the man in the phone shouting something at the albino before the oh-so-awesome Gilbert pressed "End Call", and the voice appeared no more.

"What was that for?" Mokou said angrily.

"Why… did you call… my brother?"

"Look, you're drunk," she said matter-of-factly, "The least I could do is contact your relatives."

"Drunk? Drunk? Oh don't be silly, Mokou…" Gilbert waved a fifty-euro note in the air, "Barman, get me some more drinks!"

"What?"

"I swear to drunk that I'm not god!" he declared, a droopy smile on his face.

If Gilbert was just an ordinary man, Mokou would've probably walked away and continue on with her own business. However, Mokou was sure that this man is someone she should pay close attention to, so she can't leave him just yet.

"O-okay," she took the money out of Gilbert's hand, while her other arm wrapped around his shoulder, "The air is getting a bit stuffy in here. Can we go outside… and then come back to drink later?"

"Suuuuurrre," said Gilbert.

It was close to midnight, but the party was still going. As the duo stumbled into the evening air, Mokou felt a bit better. As much as the atmosphere in the club seemed fun, it was starting to get a bit claustrophobic for her. They were standing underneath a tree, which rustled along with the gusts of wind. It almost reminded her of the forests back in Gensokyo. She would lie on the ground every night, staring at the leaves as she formulated her next plan to get back at Kaguya…

"…have I ever told you about my best friend in the whole wide world, Mokou?" Gilbert's voice cut through her thoughts.

"No, I don't think you have," she said.

"Well! Y-you see…" Gilbert pointed at the air in front of him, his eyes squinting at a shop window on the opposite side of the street, "I have this friend called Old Fritz! He was my bestie!" at this point, he waved his arms at the sky, the movement almost made Mokou fall over.

"We totally kicked that stupid aristocrat's ass in all those wars! And with a small army, too! It was awesome! He also invented freedom to the press, did you know that?"

_So your friend allowed that stupid tengu the right to invade everyone's privacy. Nice work._

"Not only that…" Gilbert did a small hiccup before continuing, "He set up the greatest legal system in whole of Europe! He built a lot of roads... and made heaps of agricultural land! He made Prussia great! I-it's just a shame… that… he had to die…"

And with that, Gilbert suddenly learnt against Mokou, sobbing like a school boy who had lost their favourite Transformers toy. Poor girl had no idea how to react to this situation, and she certainly didn't want the man's snots to end up on her clothes!

"Old Fritz… oh Old Fritz… you were way too awesome to die, you know that?" he lamented, "If only you were an immortal like me, if only…"

The word "immortal" struck Mokou and she quickly turned to the sobbing mess on her left.

"You… you're immortal?" she asked slowly. _Surely… this can't be right. He's probably rambling nonsense again. He's drunk! _Still, part of her wanted to believe in this idea. It's not very often that another human would come out and admit they're immortal. Plus, this weird essence she's been detecting off him… _maybe he isn't a normal human, after all?_

"Ooh, oooh," the man groaned, "I wasn't supposed… to tell you that… oh well, you probably won't believe me…" Gilbert swung his head around slowly, "_You_ wouldn't understand immortality, anyway… you're not that awesome…"

_Oh, how wrong he was..._

"D-do you have a best friend like mine, Mokou?"

"Oh! I—" Mokou realised it was probably the first time since their meeting that he had asked her a personal question. She hesitated for a bit, her eyes glancing at Gilbert. _Surely, talking to a drunken man wouldn't hurt… he'll probably forget it the next day, anyway._

"W-well, I do have a friend. Her name is Keine," she was a bit twitchy at first, but for some reason she decided to continue on, her hands wandering around her pocket, searching for another cigarette to smoke, "She—she's special in her own way, and she doesn't judge me for who I am and what I did." _Why am I telling you all this?_ She cringed.

"That sounds… brilliant!" Gilbert smiled and shouted at the sky, much to the dismay of the girl next to him, "Your friend Kenny deserves some great acknowledgement, just like Old Fritz!"

"Her name is _Keine_, not Kenny."

"Oh… sorry."

"And she's not dead yet, not like Old Fritz," Mokou informed him, before turning her attention to a stone at her feet, "Still, I'm dreading the day of her death. She's one of the best friends I've had in a while…"

"Aww, that's so sweet…" Gilbert said cheerfully.

"Give me a break…" said the girl, before adding in a stern voice, "Y-you have to promise not to tell anyone about our conversation, okay?"

"S... sure! Breaking a promise is never awesome! Let me tell you that!" he slapped Mokou's back. It was a little too hard, perhaps, as she was almost tempted to set the freaking idiot on fire, "Of course I won't tell anyone! Not even Francis or Antonio—h-hey, that looks like my brother's car…"

A black Audi with a German flag on its rear-view mirror suddenly pulled up next to the kerbside. Out step the muscular man with sleek blond hair and baby-blue eyes. His expression was unreadable.

"Bruder…"

"Ludwig… Ludwig! Is that you?" Gilbert said in a singsong voice, "You're a biiiiig meanie!"

"Just… get in the car," he said bluntly, before turning to Mokou, "I'm sorry if my brother caused you any trouble."

"O-oh, it's no big deal," she answered back, "We had a nice chat and everything—"

"Mokou!"

The phoenix girl blinked at the familiar voice, as one of the car doors at the back opened. Immediately, Ludwig stepped aside in alarm, while a girl with white hair and blue dress tumbled out of the car, an ecstatic expression worn upon her face.

"K-Keine…" Mokou recognised the outfit, "W-what are you doing here?"

"I thought I'll never find you in this outside world!" the teacher from Human Village picked up her hat on the ground, dusting it before putting it on her head, "I was getting worried!"

"N-now hang on, Ms K-k-kamishimi—I mean, Keine," Ludwig spluttered, his hand resting on the window of his car, "You two know each other?"

An awkward silence settled over the four figures, while the night club's music continued to blare out various dance tunes into the street. Finally, it was Gilbert's drunken antics which cut through the ice – for he had started to puke on the ground in front of everyone.

* * *

Author's notes:

1. Smoking laws in Berlin, Germany - from what I've read in Wikipedia, clubs must have a separate smoking area for their patrons and clear signs must be displayed. However, a newspaper report released last year ("Pub Smoking Still Widespread Despite Ban" – The Local, May 3, 2011) suggests that the law is often overlooked by owners. Also, the law is generally not enforced after 10pm as the authorities don't work past that time. If I'm wrong about any of these laws please feel free to correct me on it.

2. Mein gott - Oh my god

3. Bruder – brother

4. Guten tag – Hello

5. All those things Gilbert said about Frederick II (Old Fritz) is apparently true.

_6. Berlin Alexanderplatz – _an old German TV series made in the 1980s. It's about a guy from pre-WWII period.

7. salzstangen - pretzels in Germany. They're doughy in texture and normally sold in bakeries.

I don't quite understand why some people put Gilbert along with Cirno (okay they both have a huge ego but that's about it) because personally I think Gilbert could probably relate more with Mokou. Appearance wise they can pull off a brother-sister act, and they both know how it feels to be different from everybody else (Countries disappear when they no longer exist officially, but Prussia is no longer a nation yet his personification lives on which sets him apart from others. And Mokou doesn't fit in because she's a human who can't die etc.).

PS: I sincerely hope I haven't made any of the characters sound OOC so far.

PPS: Who should I write next...?


	6. Elegance

Sorry for the delay! Here is chapter six. Be warned that this chapter contains suggestive themes and violence (but I think I toned it down to an acceptable level for the T-rating...)

Also, thank you for the support on my story. Honestly... I started writing this as a silly side project when I had writer's block for my Pokemon fanfic. I didn't expect people to like it more than my other fanfic...

* * *

6. Elegance

Francis wasted no time getting into the paper work. He examined reports and gave various stamps of approval. Every once in a while, the cordless phone to his right would ring and he had to stop and answer various enquiries. Slowly but surely, dusk descended upon the city of lights as the Frenchman picked up his mobile again. He found several unread messages – all of them coming from Gilbert. Seeing the silly texts made by his friend made Francis smiled a little, because it reminded him of the good times the trio had together. _Man, they were the life of every party they went to!_

He glanced at the opulent arch window behind him and took a sip of water. The sky had a navy blue colour, but the sun was nowhere in sight. In the streets down below, he could still see the cars driving past, but some had started to put on their headlights. His phone told him it was already nine-thirty in the evening, yet there was still enough visibility to see a lot of things without the aid of streetlights. Then again, in this part of the world, night doesn't fully set in until ten o'clock.

_Huh… better head home now. Looks like I'm having dinner late again. This is the third time this week! _The Frenchman thought. _At least tomorrow is Saturday, which means I'll be off work earlier…_

The quiet buzz from his mobile's vibration snapped him back to reality. It was a message from his boss, telling him he's leaving the office. That was the cue for Francis to leave, and he was glad to take it. He grabbed his keys from the pigeon hole and hurried outside, almost running into a group of tourists headed for the Moulin Rouge._ Moulin Rouge, huh? Personally, I think Folies Bergère put on excellent cabaret shows as well, but I suppose everyone wants a taste of the more famous venue…_

A lengthy walk eventually led him to a metro station. It was fairly deserted, and the tile floors were looking a little worse for wear. Regardless, the colourful and artistic murals on the walls made the place a bit more welcoming to look at. As the metro train arrived, he quickly filed in before the gate closed, and almost bumped into a lady in a barista uniform. Uttering a quick word of apology, Francis meandered through the passengers, eventually finding a seat next to someone wearing a pink dress.

"_Bonsoir, monsieur. Comment allez-vous?"_

The Frenchman whirled around. A lady with blue hair was sitting right next to him, her parasol folded up neatly to her side. It took Francis about half a minute before memory struck, and he remembered who she was.

"Y-you're that lovely lady who found my phone this afternoon."

"Indeed," she said with an air of aloofness in her voice. Behind her, a mob of yellow hair poked out in curiosity.

"Well… it must be _fate_ that brought us together on this train, mademoiselle," said Francis, presenting the blue haired female with a small smile, "My name is Francis, Francis Bonnefoy. What about you, my beautiful dear?"

"The name is Remilia Scarlet," the vampire said coldly, "And this is my little sister, Flandre."

As if on cue, the younger sibling jumped off her seat, "I'm here, too!"

"Alright then, Remilia—"

"Please, we are only strangers. We should refer to each other by last names, _Monsieur Bonnefoy_."

Francis seemed taken aback by the statement. His charms were clearly not working on this young lady in front of him. While this wouldn't be the first time something like this had happened, he still finds it unusual for someone of the opposite gender _not_ to be overwhelmed by his handsomeness. Then again, he has been working so hard in the office lately some of his charming features must've deteriorated from all that stress.

The metro train screeched to a stop at Louis Blanc. A group of young men shuffled in wearing tattered old t-shirts and few have torn marks on their navy jeans. Most were unshaved, and one of the guys had opted for two metal rings hanging out of his nose. Examining the men upon their arrival, Remilia scowled in disgust and turned her head the other way, while Flandre tugged at her sister's skirt.

"Sis… why do those men have holes all over their pants? Are they too poor to afford new ones?"

Upon hearing the comment, one of the men glared daggers at Flandre. Not wanting the situation to take a turn for the worse, the embodiment of France quickly explained, "Torn jeans are considered a cool fashion statement for them, my dear."

"I… see," said the younger Scarlet, albeit appearing a bit confused by why people in the outside world chose to ruin their own clothing.

"Don't speak to the man unless I told you to, Flandre," the older sister reprimanded.

"Now that's a bit harsh, mademoiselle," said the Frenchman, "She was merely asking out of curiosity, and I was being polite, answering her questions."

Remilia Scarlet snorted, before taking out a small, folded up fan. _Classy._ Thought Francis. _She reminds me of those aristocrats in the past. Perhaps I should make an enquiry and find out more about her._

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the five hundred years old vampire's mind was racing for her next action. This tiny, rickety train carriage was making her feel claustrophobic – she couldn't understand why humans in the outside world likes to cram themselves in such tiny spaces – her wings were desperate for relief and she had wasted a lot of her energy _just making sure this meeting between The Playboy and her actually did happen. _She could very well do with some blood from any one of these filthy humans on the train, but Remilia knew if she acted too soon, she wouldn't be able to get anything out of this sleazy Frenchman.

Her wrists were shaking as she fanned herself in an attempt to stay calm. Flandre had already begun to twitch with discomfort. Oh, why oh why did she decide to let her litter sister out of the basement on that particular day? They were merely having high tea in a private garden inside Scarlet Mansion. The day was going swimmingly. A certain black-and-white witch has, for the first time in over six months, managed to go through a day without blowing a hole in Patchouli's library. Yukari wasn't bothering her, and even Sakuya was out of enquiries for her to sort out.

Of course, everything proved too good to be true. As soon as the black vortex appeared in the sky, her head maid had obediently followed her orders to investigate it. When Sakuya was sucked into the distorted space and didn't appear in the next thirty seconds, chaos ensued: the fairy maids who were wandering around the garden immediately shrieked and ran back into the mansion, like the useless cowards they are. Her gatekeeper dropped the garden tools she was holding before flying up into the sky, trying to drag Sakuya back from god-knows-where. She disappeared, too. That was when Flandre began crying out for their names – she couldn't bear the thought of having two of her regular playmates gone, so she flew up to the vortex, clutching a tiny, fragile parasol in her right hand…

"Sis… I'm hungry…"

"We'll get some bl – I mean – food later, Flandre," Remilia said impatiently, "But I need to have a serious conversation with this… gentleman over here."

"Oh?" Francis raised his eyebrow, "What is the matter, Mademoiselle Scarlet?"

"Don't hide it, Monsieur Bonnefoy," with a quick snap, the vampire closed her fan and used it to point at the Frenchman, "Tell us how to get back to Gensokyo."

Slightly baffled by Remilia's reaction, Francis spread out his hands innocently, "Gen-what? Where is that? Please, I don't understand this line of questioning—"

"You're not human, are you?" the vampire pressed on in a low voice, her face so close to Francis he was practically staring into her eyes, "Keep your eyes up and pay attention! I don't want you gawking at my feminine features, pervert!"

The word 'pervert' made several heads turn, and Francis wished he hasn't been there. _Damn it. So she was stalking me this afternoon…!_ Francis decided to make a mental note, and keep his perverted tendencies to brothels and magazines next time. _What's this thing with 'you're not a human'? Calm down Francis. It's probably just another one of those… coincidences. That's easy to sort out. And where the bloody hell is this Gen-soky place—oh great, 'bloody hell'? I'm turning into England!_

"I'm sure this is a huge misunderstanding," he babbled, backing away from the young lady. _Clang!_ Francis had accidentally hit his head on one of the poles. "Mademoiselle Scarlet, are you sure you haven't mistaken me for anybody else?"

"No," her steely voice spoke of the truth, "You _know _what I'm talking about. Don't you?"

"Uhh… when you said I'm not a human, is that a metaphor for saying I'm a sex god?"

_SMACK! _Obviously, Francis' attempt at making jokes did not bode well with Remilia. While he didn't mind a bruise to the head due to his fast-healing abilities as a nation, he is still equipped with the capacity to feel pain.

"Gosh, lady! Can't you take a joke?"

"Your promiscuity is hardly the right material for comic relief! And I will not have you corrupt my sister's mind!"

"And I don't even know where this Gen-soky place is!" the Frenchman defended loudly, again catching the attention of nearby passengers. He quickly cleared his throat, before continuing, "_Excusez-moi, mademoiselle._ Okay, I was at fault in my last comment and I apologise, but a normal person would not ask strangers odd questions they cannot answer—"

_BANG!_ From outside the window, sparks flew to the left from the passenger's frame of reference. Immediately, the train screeched to a stop. The beams of light outside flickered as if moths had been gathering around it, before shutting off automatically. Inside, the pale white lights stayed on as it is powered differently, but that didn't prevent the following events from happening…

As passengers exchanged confused babbles, one of the guys in torn jeans shoved his hands in his pocket, while his 'friends' followed suit. In a matter of seconds each ended up standing next to a passenger or an exit, and their hands shot out of their pocket – with hand guns and knives.

"Hands straight up where I can see them!" the guy with nose rings commanded. A combination of loud, deep masculine voice along with firearms as a prop was effective in sending chills down many of the passengers' spines. One of the guys had his eyes set on an elderly lady, who was shaking so much she made the plastic handle on her bag go 'wibbly-wobbly'.

By now, most passengers have obeyed the harsh and unforgiving voice of their hijackers. They held their hands high before kneeling on the floor cautiously. Francis was among the ones complying with the hijackers' requests – sure, he has enough warfare experience and savate training to take down all of the guys with his bare hand, but the lives of other passengers – his citizens – were at great risk! One reckless move here could put everyone and himself in danger. On top of that, even if his nation status do allow him to survive multiple gunshots, if the passengers saw his regenerative powers then he would be exposed to all kinds of scandals and questions from the general public. _I should try and negotiate with them. How hard can it be?_

"Hey! What are you doing over there in the corner?" Francis bit his lips and peered upwards. A man in his forties was being dragged from his seat by one of the youths. In his hand, he clutched a white smart phone. It seems the middle-aged man's attempt at making contact with the authorities has failed, and now several more hijackers were surrounding him. The Frenchman couldn't help but wince in sympathy at each kicks, slashes and punches that middle-aged man got. _You idiot! Phones won't work down in these tunnels anyway! _

"That'll teach you not to mess with us, scum," the ringleader spat. Francis lifted his head more to observe the situation – a series of moaning later, the victim was struggling to sit up, his arms and legs were covered in bruises that had begun to turn into a nasty green colour. Blood trickled out of his slash wounds and his clothes were torn. But the worst part was seeing his face – a black eye resides to the left of his face, a large cut running across his right cheek and his glasses broken and tossed aside, its silver frame stained with red.

That was not all, however. If anything was even more shocking than this, it was the little girl they called Flandre Scarlet. In the heat of the moment Francis had almost forgotten about the two sisters who, among the rest of the passengers, are the only ones remain sitting or standing. Little Flandre was walking across to the injured man tentatively, her eyes looking as if she was in another dimension and not in the cramped subway. Slowly, she knelt down to the injured man with her mouth half-open, and held out one finger.

The injured man was still shaking from the shock of his attack when Flandre touched his cheek. With an animated yelp, he shuffled backwards as the pressure from her finger inflicted a stinging sensation on his face. As if on instinct Flandre withdrew backwards and licked at her finger – which was covered with the man's blood – in front of everyone.

A pregnant silence spread over the whole carriage.

"Flandre…"

Remilia's words were soon drowned out by the callous laughter of the hijackers, who were eyeing the younger Scarlet as if she was an idiot. One of the men couldn't control himself and fired a shot at the window above where Francis was sitting. The impact of the bullet caused many to scream in fear. Flandre, in response to the less-than-friendly reactions, turned her head towards the criminals. Her red eyes were devoid of emotions.

"Play with me… you should… play…"

"Flandre—oh no."

Without warning, a pair of wings shot out from behind Flandre's back. They were unlike normal animal wings because it consisted of crystals – in all colours of the rainbow – hanging from two gnarly branches. It reminded Francis of odd interior designs for chandeliers. Holding out her right hand, Flandre slowly brought her fingers back into the centre – as if she was closing her hand like a fist.

"Kyuu…"

In that instant, as the word left the young Scarlet's lips, every single light bulb exploded spontaneously, plunging all the carriages into inky darkness. More screams filled the air. The men who were guarding the doors towards other carriages immediately had their hands on the doors – on one hand trying to prevent any passengers from escaping, on the other hoping their strong grip on hard materials can ease their fear of such supernatural occurrences. Brushing glass shards from his clothes, the Frenchman carefully stood back to waist height, his eyes darted around, adjusting to the dark condition as if he was fighting at the Western Front at night with Belgium. Through the faint glow from Flandre's wings he could approximate the positions of each of the hijackers – the nearest one was to his left, and he only had a knife in his hand.

Quick as a flash he sprung up, covering the hijacker's mouth with his arms and wrestling him to the ground. The muffled sound of their struggle was noticed by some nearby passengers and one other hijacker who, unfortunately for Francis, had a small handgun. Just as Francis managed to elbow his enemy into unconsciousness, he felt something pebble-like hit his left thigh.

"_Merde!"_

Chaos ensued. The ringleader turned back to watch the commotion, but he was soon knocked over by a strong force called Flandre Scarlet. The little girl's fingernail dug into his chest, her mouth half opened, revealing her sharp fangs in the dim light. Remilia stepped into action by throwing down her fan, before spreading her wings out with a flourish. The passengers gazed in a mixture of amazement and terror as a blur of scarlet sped past their eyes and onto the guy who shot at Francis. The Frenchman watched as Remilia sunk her fangs down into the guy's throat. Her prey tried to struggle, but the loss of blood made his movements weak, to the point where he couldn't even hold his pistol properly. Like one of Alice's dolls devoid of life, the hijacker flopped onto the ground beside his companion, while Remilia hovered back into mid-air, calmly wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Gnarrrrgh…"

"Flandre! That is enough," unlike her older sister, Flandre's attack on her enemy was more destructive. For the sake of not scaring readers into having nightmares tonight, details will not be revealed on the extent of the damage, other than to say blood was pooling around the ringleader's body. Gently, Remilia pulled her sister away from the man, who was still staring at the ringleader with indifference. Francis peered at his citizens – some were too frightened to say or do anything, while others have fainted on the spot. Him? Well… with the amount of tragedy he had seen in the past, nations like him had long been desensitised from violence. However, everything that happened before his eyes was supernatural, like something out of a horror movie.

_Except this is no longer a movie – it is as real as one can get. Arrgh! My leg! _He quickly put more pressure on his wound. _Damn it, that stupid gun just ruined my pants! They were a good pair, too…_

"Monsieur Bonnefoy."

Remilia Scarlet was staring directly at him, her right hand clamping onto her sister's wrist.

_"Q-quoi?"_

"You need to come with us."

"B-but…" _stay focused, Francis! You don't lose your cool around two girl… vampires._ "I need to stay back and… look after the people," he said in a weak voice. The bullet wound on his leg was starting to ebb away his strength, and Francis knew if he didn't take the piece of metal out as soon as possible, his injury was going to take weeks - instead of days - to heal fully.

"They will be fine— "

"No. I-I can't." the Frenchman mustered up his courage before stating his intentions, "I can't, Mademoiselle Scarlet."

"Shame. I wish I didn't have to do this…"

He expected it. He knew Remilia was going to jump onto him and suck his blood dry, but his reflexes were too slow for her superhuman speed as she bit into his neck. With a horrified wail, Francis felt his energy draining from him and his vision became blurry. His limbs were not taking commands, and surrounding noises were slowly fading to mute. It didn't take long before darkness overwhelmed him, and he was dragged into oblivion…

Somewhere in the United Kingdoms, a re-run of "The Vicar of Dibley" was suddenly interrupted by a breaking news report.

* * *

"Reimu. You looked a bit worried."

"Of course I am, Yukari! With so many of Gensokyo's residents spread out through the outside world, we're pretty much relying on these 'countries' to tell us their whereabouts."

"I think they'll be capable enough to find them. You can think of them as the youkais of the outside world."

"And another question: I remember reading somewhere that there are hundreds of different languages humans use in the outside world. What would happen if the humans they're talking to don't understand Japanese?"

"As far as I know, most of them have attended Kamishirasawa's school and learnt a rather universal language– English. I suspect that Remilia Scarlet would've known some European languages from her days living in the outside world. The Scarlet's gatekeeper and wicked hermit Seiga Kaku knows Chinese as well. You see? There is no need to worry. Any questions?"

"… just one. Are you sure this whole thing isn't premeditated? You seem to know a lot."

"Of course not! Teleporting that many residents out of Gensokyo will drain at least half of my energy! I need to save that for watching anime, you know! Speaking of anime, have you seen Death Note? I must say, I find its portrayal of shinigami very interesting…"

* * *

Author's Notes:

1. True story: I went to Paris once in summer, and night time did not come in until, like, ten o'clock. The metro stopping thing was based on another real life experience, but without criminals and vampires.

2. Folies Bergère is another venue which hosts cabaret shows.

3._ Bonsoir, monsieur. Comment allez-vous? -_ Good evening, sir. How are you? (Also Mademoiselle = Miss)

4. "It must be fate that brought us together…" – Free cookies for those who get the joke.

5._ Excusez-moi_ - excuse me

6. Savate – French kickboxing

7. _Merde_ - French equivalent to the s-word.

8. _Quoi_ - what

9. "The Vicar of Dibley" - a popular British sitcom.

Also, just a quick mention, I've set the story in the mid-May/early June of 2012. You'll see why in the next chapter.


End file.
